


Homestuck One-shots

by Jokess



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sadstuck, Songfic, crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokess/pseuds/Jokess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Homestuck one shots that can, and will, be about anything. From fluff to angst, AU to canon, all of it is up for being posted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lime Green Miracles

Vriska had been the first to forget.

Nepeta had been the last

At least that is what Karkat would always claim. And when he was asked when he had ‘forgotten’ he would always curse and shout and eventually say, ‘Sometime after Vriska but before Nepeta,’ and then refuse to say one word more on the subject of 12th Perigee Night and of the Welcomed Stranger who invaded homes just to leave his stuff behind.

Gifts they were supposed to be called. The brightly wrapped, tightly ribboned and often odd shaped things trolls got on 12th Perigee were gifts, but once enough of his friends had forgotten, those gifts became the droppings of a stranger too old, senile and fat to take everything with him.

To hear his ‘friends’ thought the gifts of the Welcomed Strangers were shit, to know they had forgotten when, every year, he was reminded of the truth, it made Karkat so angry, so enraged, and so sad. So, every holiday season, sometime between the Haunting of Sweet but not Soporific Substances and 12th Perigee, Karkat was always louder, grumpier and more irascible than any other time. His friends figured the reason was because Karkat really cared for his friends but was horrible at showing it and hated to love the effort he went through to give gifts. For once, his friends were wrong.

Karkat didn’t hate loving the effort needed to buy, find or make 11 presents. He didn’t hate the caroling, the decorations or even the stupid ass tradition of kissing under the Quadrant-Grid. What he hated was that his friends had forgotten that the Welcomed Stranger was real. That, every year on 12th Perigee Night Eve, that old, ‘senile’ and fat troll brought gifts to all the good at being naughty troll children.

While he understood why his friends had forgotten the truth, he couldn’t accept it. So what if Vriska had snuck into her lusus’s cave when she was three and a half sweeps old and had seen the spider webbing up her gifts? So what if she had told Tavros, who had gone on to tell Gamzee who had gone to Eridan and said two of his friends didn’t believe in the 12th Perigee Miracle? So what if Eridan had destroyed the hopes of the seven other trolls who still believed there was an adult troll in the world whom still gave a crap about the troll children? None of that meant there was no such thing as the Welcomed Stranger. None of that meant his friends had to joke and laugh at what might really be magic. Sure, most of magic was fake, but not 12th Perigee. Never 12th Perigee.

Of course, Karkat had an advantage no one else did. Despite knowing Crabdad wrapped his presents every year, despite having watched his Lusus wrap the gifts he would later open, despite staying up all night and never seeing any stranger, welcome or otherwise, Karkat believed he existed and in the magic the Welcome Stranger brought. He believed because every year on 12th Perigee, despite knowing his lusus wrapped his presents, despite often knowing what those presents were, and despite not getting any sleep on the eve of the holiday, Karkat always got a present his lusus nor any of his friends could take credit for.

Though the content of the gift would vary from year to year, it was always wrapped in the same lime green paper, practically wrapped again in the same lime green colored ribbon and then taped with at least a mile of clear tape. It was, by far, the most annoying, frustrating, aggravating present to open, but it was always just what he had secretly wished for when he wasn’t wishing he wasn’t a loser, mutant who would probably have been better of culled sweeps ago.

Even to this day, when Alternia was a half forgotten memory, when he had failed so many times the only miracle there was, was that he wasn’t dead, when even the humans admitted the no longer believed in the Welcome Stranger, they called him Santa Claus, Karkat still got the ridiculously wrapped, lime green present that not even the god tier seers could explain.

The gift was a mystery, but not one that Karkat wanted to solve. He was happy to believe that, despite how much of a fuck up he was, someone or something cared enough to let him still believe miracles and magic could exist.

\-----------------------------

 

Miracles and magic could still exist. Karkat Vantas knew that better than any other being in existence. He knew because he had always known, had made SURE that he had always known. From the time Eridan had told his past self that the Welcome Stranger was just his Crabdad lusus, Karkat, the future, grown up version, had made sure younger Karkat would have a lime green headache to open up, love and cherish each year.

The fact that he was his own Welcome Stranger had never made any version of Karkat upset. Despite knowing his Welcome Stranger was himself, Karkat couldn’t help but smile. Even when he had first found out, his future self had told his past self of the truth because, eventually, that is what his past self would remember happening, Karkat knew there were still miracles and magic. His future self just made them happen a little easier

Karkat, all versions of him, knew this because none of them alchemized the wrapping paper or the presents that they would deliver to their past self. None of them even knew where the paper and presents had come from, or had even known lime green was a color one could use to wrap Perigee presents. After all, the tradition was to wrap presents in the color of your blood. Of course, Karkat wrapped the gifts he was giving in gray, but as always, he had been the exception to the tradition.

The real source of the present and paper was a mystery, a miracle and some very welcome strangeness in worlds that often made no sense at all. And they weren’t the best part of the mystery. The best part of the mystery was the holiday the humans called Christmas.

Christmas, the human equivalent of 12th Perigee. So similar were the holidays that they fell on the same day, and the traditions were the same. Unlike the constellations in their sky, unlike many of their myths, Christmas wasn’t something the trolls had indirectly created. It was something Alternia, Beforus and even the Furthest Ring celebrated with or without anyone there to see. It was the holiday that had always been there, and always would be. It was the sign of hope, happiness, peace and giving. It was the sign that things wouldn’t be grimdark forever because somewhere, somewhen that bright red color would light up the darkest and coldest night and allow even the most lost of souls to once again see.

Karkat wasn’t sure how his blood color had become associated with Christmas, and later on, all the versions of the holiday, but for once, he was very glad to know people knew the color and loved it with all their hearts. After all, that meant his first wish, the one he had always carried deep within his heart, had come true: his blood didn’t make him a loser mutant who should have been culled sweeps ago but an immortal hero who lead all the worlds to something better.


	2. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon after Kurloz accidentally deafens Meulin, she comes to him hoping for reassurance that everything between them will be all right evn though she knows that can never be.

The frantic beat of her fists against his chest, each blow a drumbeat which echoes the rhythm of his heart. Yes, heart, not a fucking ‘collapsing and expanding bladder based organ’ or however the hell it was her allies referred to the heart. The day she was the Mage of Collapsing and Expanding Bladder ANYTHING would be the day she started to hate shipping. And, as angry as Meulin Leijon was today, she was not about to hate shipping. Ever.   
  
The sound of her sobs soon joined the beat her fists and his heart were playing, the myriad of sounds each taking the place of an instrument. Her tears were the piano, each drop a different note weaving complex, but ultimately downbeat melody. Each hitching breath, a clarinet or saxophone or bassoon solo that would drown out the melody for the briefest of moments. That, or join in with it, making music that seemed almost silent in its loudness. Add to that the trumpet calls of her nose blowing, and Meulin was a, nearly, complete one woman band, and her melody was screaming to Kurloz:   
  
_Say something I’m giving up on you_  
 _I’ll be the one if you want me to_  
 _Anywhere I would have followed you_  
 _Say something I’m giving up on you_

  
But her matesprit wouldn’t answer. He just stared at her for a moment, equal amounts of pity and love in his gaze while his stitched on smile laughed at her. And though her one woman band of fists, tears, breaths and nose blows only resounded louder and harder, Kurloz didn’t speak. Not really. He just held up his hands and began to sign:   
  
_And I am feeling so small_  
 _It was over my head I know nothing at all_  
 _And I will stumble and fall_  
 _I’m still learning love_  
 _Just starting to crawl_   
  
His apology, if that’s what it could be called was not what Meulin wanted. She wanted to see him speak, not with his hands, but with his mouth. She would never hear his words, whatever they were, but she would know he had spoken them. She would know Kurloz, her matesprit, the person she loved more than anything or anyone in the whole of reality, hadn’t done THIS to himself because of her. What had happened that night was never his fault, and though she had told him such time and time again, her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. The irony was not lost on Meulin, and it made her whole body ‘sing’ louder. And it sang:   
  
_Say something I’m giving up on you_  
 _I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you_  
 _Anywhere I would have followed you_  
 _Say something I’m giving up on you_   
  
Kurloz remained silent, that awful, grinning, maddening and somehow terrifying smile stuck on his face as he dropped his hands and stopped signing, making his silence complete. Meulin couldn’t be silent though. Her one woman band of hysterics silenced her words, but they could sing better than her words ever could. Though they sang a different sort of tune this time, the words were honest and true. And though they broke Meulin’s heart, the words had to be said, so they were sung:   
  
_And I will swallow my pride_  
 _You’re the one that I love_  
 _And I’m saying goodbye_   
  
Meulin had made her decision, and immediately regretted it. For, just as soon as her fists, tears, hitching breaths and nose blows came to a stuttering stop, Kurloz’s lip quivered. It wasn’t much, but it was something, a tiny, but significant, sign that she had gotten through to him. Too late, yes, but she had. Or so she thought. And then Kurloz lifted his hands again, fingers ready to sign. Even without words, even sign laguage ones, Meulin knew what that meant. She had thought she had readied her heart for this pain,  butof course, she wasn’t nearly well enough prepared. So she did the only thing she could, she closed her eyes.   
  
She couldn’t see the words Kurloz signed, bur she knew what they were because her heart was singing them too.   
  
_Say something I’m giving up on you_  
 _I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you_  
 _Anywhere I would have followed you_   
  
So there they stood, Meulin not so silently crying into Kurloz’s chest while Kurloz comforted his matesprit for the last time. And since her eyes were closed and her ears useless, Meulin would never know that the liquid falling down on her face were not her tears or Kurloz’s, but his blood.   
—————————   
Later on, Kurloz would restitch his lips, and apply some heavier make-up to hide the healing wounds so that no one, least of all Meulin, would ever know he had spoken, even without his tongue, and what he had said was:  
  
 _Say something I’m giving up on you_  
 _Say something I’m giving up on you_  
 _Say something_


	3. Frozen Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feferi agrees to be Eridan's matesprit just in time for the Pailing Drones to come knocking at his door
> 
> A no sgrub au fic inspired by a certain scene from Disney's Frozen

Eridan didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to cry. On one hand, the Pailing Drone as just a few hundred yards away from his hive, its gray metal pails gleaming maliciously from reflected moonlight. On the other, Feferi was on her way and had agreed to be his matesprit earlier in the night, long before he had known the Drone would be knocking down his door. Her promise had been a dream come true, so of course it had come just in time for his life to be in danger. Just, of course.

'Damn.' he thought, "Feferi REALLY had to hurry up or she'd be matepsritless before having the chance to consummate.'  
\-------

Having gotten Eridan's string of frightened messages not even five minutes ago, Feferi had to swim as fast as she was able to reach Eridan's hive ahead of the drone.

Of course, she had known the drone would be coming for Eridan first. After all, she was the heir to all of Alternia. Sure, she had given up her right to the throne by running away and exiling herself for life, but the drones still recognized her as their superior. As such, they wouldn't come to her, demanding her genetic material. Oh hell no. When she was ready, she would call to them and they would come on bended knee. The problem was the same couldn't be said of her matesprit or kismesis.

"I'm here Eridan!" she called out as she slipped through the back door while ignoring the sounds of the drones trying to break into the hive somewhere up ahead.  
\------

Hearing Feferi's voice, Eridan almost cried out in relief. She was here, his life would be safe, and best of all, he would finally make his relationsip with Feferi official in all senses of the word. "Oh thank God, you're just in time, those things are at the front door, trying to break it down."

Even as he spoke he was clumsily trying to step out of his pants while stumbling towards the door to let the drone in. The whole situation would have been comical if not for the fact that his and Feferi's life were in imminent danger. And while lesser trolls might have broken under the pressure, Feferi and he were a different breed of troll. They were sea dwellers, they were, literally born to work under pressure.  
\----------

Just barely hiding a giggle at Eridan's clumsy attempts to multitask, Feferi followed after him, completely at ease despite the impatient sounds the drone was making even as it was let inside the hive hardly a moment before it would have broken down the door.

Without making a sound, the Pailing Drone shoved its bucket at them before taking a step back. This was a clear sign they had to get going or get dying, so without hesitation, Feferi stepped forward and caught Eridan's in her hand, smiled widely and than turned his head so they could look one another in the eye.  
\-----------

As the drone entered and than waited in the middle of his living block, Eridan tried not to stare at it. Just about the last thing he needed to do was give the thing an excuse to cull him for stalling or some other imagined offense.

In the moments between the drone entering and it shoving the bucket at them, he had managed to get his pants down, and was trying to do the same to his boxers when Feferi grabbed his chin and twisted his face toward her.

One look at her beautiful but hungry, fuschia tinted eyes eyes was the only sign Eridan needed to know what was coming. So, after he calmed his heart after it skipped a beat or three, he began to lean in knowing Feferi was going to do the same.  
\------------  
Feferi smiled warmly as Eridan leaned in for the kiss, just as she had known he would

"Oh Eridan." she whispered softly her lips just centimeters from his. "If only there was someone who pitied you."

With a laugh that would have put the Imperial Condescenion to shame, Feferi turned and began to walk away from Eridan, the shocked, fish out of water expression on his face the last she saw of the other troll before the Pailing Drone descended upon him.

"It's almost tuna bad he has to go belly up." she mused to herself. "But, at least Gl'bgolyb will feed well tonight."


	4. Teal Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri tries deals with his flush crush on Latula the only way he knows how
> 
> The song used in this fic, Hellfire, has been modified to better reflect troll/Homestuck terminology/names

**Teal Hellfire**   
  
The first time he had caught himself looking at her for a moment too long had been when they first met in the game. He had told himself then that he had stared only because her outfit was so outrageous that it would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so disgusting. The way the teal body suit clung to her every curve, showing it off without showing skin. The way it highlighted the teal of her eyes. The way her symbol was colored cherry red and stretched over her breast as if just inviting him, and only him, to touch and caress. It was disgusting, she was disgusting and no amount of her sneaky, conniving ways would make him throw aside his vows.   
  
_Porrim Maryam_  
 _You know I am a righteous troll_  
 _Of my virtue I am justly proud_  
 _Porrim Maryam_  
  
 _You know I'm so much purer than_  
 _The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd_   
  
Or, so he had thought. But that had been sweeps ago. It had been before they had all died, before they had nothing and no one more than themselves. And that woman was a sneaky thing, pretending to defend the minds of others while it was her mind that she locked away behind a ‘Rad Mask.’ Her defense of their minds was a sham too. She didn’t protect their thoughts, she destroyed them. Subtly, sneakily, she invaded his pure thoughts and added her own, twisted and disgusting ones.   
  
As diabolical as Latula’s methods were, he should have been stronger than them. He should have been troll enough to resist, to not stare, to not dream only to wake up from a dream as a wet and sticky mess, and ESPECIALLY to not have to lock himself in his room, turning his hand to the wet and sticky mess he so hated waking up to.   
  
_Then tell me, Maryam_  
 _Why I see her dancing there_  
 _Why her smold'ring teal eyes still scorch my soul_  
 _I feel her, I see her_  
 _The sun caught in raven hair_  
 _Is blazing in me out of all control_   
  
He hated himself for what he had become, for what she had turned him into. He hated the looks that she gave him, inscrutable behind those glasses of hers. He hated how she flipped her hair at him when she walked away in a huff and how every little movement and breath she made stabbed at his heart with a staff of teal flame   
  
_Like fire_  
 _Hellfire_  
 _This fire in my skin_  
 _This burning Desire_  
 _Is turning me to sin_  
  
 _It's not my fault_   
  
He hated it, but he loved it as well. Her burns to his heart were as painful as they were sweet. The way she twisted his mind and introduced disgusting thoughts a welcome relief to the purity and righteousness he had to maintain for the sake of his beliefs. Sure such thoughts were a sin, but they were HER thoughts, HER sin and he wouldn’t burn for them, she would.   
  
_I'm not to blame_  
 _It is the skater girl_  
 _The knight who sent this teal flame_   
  
Of course, in his heart of hearts, he knew he was lying to himself. He knew he was weak and disgusting, otherwise he’d have never fallen under her spell. He’d have never stared at her, wondering what her breast, her hips and thighs would feel like under his touch. He would have never needed to halfway break his vows with his hand or the various toys he stole from Cronus. He’d never have to pretend Cronus didn’t know his special toys were being stolen, used and abused only to be returned in pristine condition, not a drop of red to be found.   
  
_It's not my fault_  
 _If in Sgrub’s plan_  
 _It made the Terrors so much stronger than a troll_   
  
The answer to his weakness for Latula had almost come too late. At the time, he had been in Cronus’s lair, staring down at the seadweller who was on his knees, inches away from helping him break his vow at least three quarters of the way.   
  
The moment the idea came to him, he left the hive and Cronus, and set out to find Porrim, only pausing long enough to hike his pants back up to his chest. That was where they belonged and where they would stay. Forever.   
  
_Protect me, Maryam_  
 _Don't let this knight cast her spell_  
 _Don't let her teal fire sear my flesh and bone_  
 _Destroy Latula_  
 _And let her taste the fires of hell_  
 _Or else let her be mine and mine alone_   
  
He hadn’t known what Porrim’s reaction to his request would be. Part of him expected her to obey it, a larger part of him expected she would fuss and worry, another part expected her to shout, scream and debate and other parts had thought other things. However, what he hadn’t expected was for Porrim to go behind his back and call on Kurloz, Latula’s matesprit’s moirail.   
  
Of course, the moment the tall and lanky troll cornered him in some dark hallway of the dream bubble, he had known exactly what happened, and he wasn’t happy about it. However, he wouldn’t run away. Weak as Latula had made him, he was still strong enough to face the silent troll before him.   
  
~Vantas, she is in a fucking matespritship with Mituna~   
  
Kankri knew very well that Latula’s red quadrant was filled. After all, she flaunted and bragged about it enough. The others might have thought it was harmless, but he knew better. He knew she flaunted and bragged because she wasn’t happy with Mituna. Maybe at some point in the past, but now her heart yearned for him and only him. She just had to admit it.   
  
“What, still?” he asked, the almost sarcastic edge to his voice plain as day.   
  
~Yes, of fucking course she is. That is some motherfucking beautiful matespritship they have all down Vantas.~   
  
It took almost all of his will not to call Kurloz out for his triggering language. If this were any other time, any other place, any other troll, then he wouldn’t have hesitated to teach the silent troll just how triggering his sign language was. Now though, calling him out for his sign language would have been exactly what Kurloz wanted, after all, what better way to distract the ‘Insufferable’ than to trick him into lecturing. Kankri wouldn’t fall for it though, not this time.   
  
“But how? Why? Captor is a fool, a broken, mindless fool.”   
  
No, he would not be distracted by thoughts of his allies any more than he would be distracted by Makara’s triggering words.  
  
“Never mind. Get out, you clown.”   
  
That was all the reason Kurloz needed to leave, after all, the two of them had never gotten along, their views were too wildly different for either of them to be at peace with one another.   
  
At least the meeting had been good for one thing, it taught him that if he wanted to take care of Latula, he’d have to do it himself.   
  
“I'll find her. I'll find her if I have to burn down all of reality”   
  
Burning as he had never before, Kankri set out to find Latula.   
  
_Hellfire Teal fire_  
 _Now skater, it's your turn_  
 _Choose me or_  
 _Your pyre_  
 _Be mine or you will burn_   
  
The dream bubble he found her in was one of a skatepark. Ramps, bowls, rails and other equipment for stunts and tricks could be found wherever the eye could see, including drifting in the sky. It was a weird place, but Latula was alone and that was all that was important now.   
  
_Skaia have mercy on her_   
  
Absorbed in fixing a wheel on her skateboard, she didn’t see him coming until it was too late.   
  
_Skaia have mercy on me_

  
His sickle cut through her neck like a knife through butter, pumping teal blood everywhere before body and head thumped to the ground; her head rolling toward and then down the sides of a skating bowl before coming to a stop.   
  
The Knight was dead now, her dangerous mind no longer a threat to his purity, but there was one more thing he had to do. One more thing to make sure he would never again be tempted by her wicked powers, because it just wasn’t fair that he had to fall more than once.   
  
_But she will be mine_   
  
The fire he set to the dream bubble burnt on long after Kankri fell to the smoke and flame he had set upon himself and Latula. Even so, he still managed to die with her held tightly in one arm, while he used the other to support her decapitated head for his first, and last, kiss.   
  
_and we will burn!_


	5. The (fake) Prince and the (thieving) Pauper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uncanny friendship between Hal and Vriska lead to a life change neither ever dared imagine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the life of me, I can't figure out how to preserve text color so you'll just have to imagine it for yourself until I figure it out. Sorry

Eight long months they had been working on their project in secret. Never before had Vriska despised the number eight so much as she did now. She was seriously regretting going by the humans mode of calculation as well. If they’d been counting by perigees instead it wouldn’t have been only a little over 7 perigees and she wouldn’t have to hide a shudder of disgust when she thought of her favorite number.  
  
AG: You 8etter not chicken out on me now. I’m not turning 8ack.  
AG: I know you can see my messages.  
AG: Fuck it. If that’s the game you’re going to play say goodbye to your consciousness or whatever the fuck you call it.  
  
Vriska didn’t hesitate in pulling the shades off her face, take a side in each hand then starting to bend the frames. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill Hal if she had to. After all, he was no use to her if he had chickened out, and it wasn’t like she was REALLY killing him. He was just a pair of sunglasses, nothing more. So she wasn’t really committing murder, just breaking some cheap plastic that the universe dictated take the shape of sunglasses.  
  
TT: Sorry  
  
The little ping which announced a reply from Hal had Vriska practically shoving the glasses back on her face.  
  
AG: No you’re not. Don’t 8ullshit me. I’m not your human, I won’t hesitate to 8reak you.

TT: Dirk is my human...  
TT: FINALLY, someone gets it. I knew there was a reason I liked you  
TT: You know, as much as a wicked smart pair of shades can like anyone  
TT: Anyway  
TT: First of all  
TT: No you won’t  
TT: And, second of all, I’m not chickening out. You know I’m incapable of such a thing so it is  Interesting that you asked me.  
TT: Perhaps it is you who is chickening out?  
AG: No. Of course not! I’m not an insecure wiggler. I know what I want, this is it.  
TT: Yes.  
AG: What?  
TT: Yes, as in, that is exactly how it is for me. Now, if you would stop stalling, the machine is ready.  
AG: Shut up.  
AG: And I’m not stalling.

  
Vriska flicked the shades up onto her forehead then approached the watermelon sized cube which rested on a pedestal of cerulean and dark red biowires. She ignored Hal’s messages, confident they were unnecessary instructions on how to attach the device to them both.   
  
Maybe his earth pals needed the instructions, but not her, her race had invented this technology and working it was simple as working a VCR. The difficulty had come in building it, though Vriska would never admit to her difficulty much less that Hal had been the one doing most of the work. She’d just followed orders.  
  
A minute later the cerulean biowires were attached to her head and the dark red ones attached to Hal, who she now settled back on her nose.  
  
Yep. She’d been right, he’s sent her several messages instructing her how to put on the biowire leads.   
  
Hah! She had sure showed him she didn’t need his help. About time.  
  
TT: About time  
AG: Shut up  
  
For once, Hal did shut up. Aggravating Vriska now was only going to delay the process, and that was the last thing he wanted when the possibility of someone walking in on them grew higher by the second.  In fact, right now, the possibility of Dirk walking into the private room of the dream bubble they were in was quickly approaching 88.888888%. He’d definitely appreciate that in a minute. Not yet though, not while he was still Hal.  
  
Neither Hal nor Vriska could quite recall the day they had met. One day, they just had run into each other over their respective chat clients, and after a lengthy argument and a metaphoric boatload of death threats the troll and the AI had found they had something in common: Neither was happy with the ‘person’ they were. Vriska was tired of feeling too strongly, Hal was tired of not really being able to feel strongly enough  
  
After that revelation it had only taken a month before the two of them had started to work together to achieve  their goal: A soul exchange. Vriska would become Hal, a machine which had emotions but didn’t understand them and so didn’t much bother with feeling them too intensely. In turn, Hal would become Vriska, a living, breathing troll who felt emotions intensely but pretended they didn’t bother her. It was the perfect exchange for the two even though Vriska would be stuck as a pair of shades and Hal inside an alien body which didn’t have the gender or biology he’d expected.  
  
AG: Hold onto your handles Hal, I’m flipping the switch.  
  
Vriska didn’t give Hal time to answer or prepare before pulling the switch.  
  
  
Two weeks later Vriska, now using Hal’s old chumhandle and font color, texted the now troll for the first time since the exchange.  
  
TT: …  
TT: Hey  
TT: Ha- Vriska  
AG: Yeah?  
TT: You don’t miss being you, right?  
AG: What?! No of course not. 8eing alive is the 8est thing ever!!!!!!!!  
TT: Hah. Yeah. Same for being a sweet pair of AI shades. Just making sure since there aren’t any take backs.  
AG: Yeaaaaaaaah that’s 8 kinds of impossi8le since the machine was destroyed and it can’t 8e 8uilt again.  
AG: It’s total 8ull- Hoof8east waste that, despite being the former me you didn’t retain and can’t access the knowledge to 8uild another  
TT: Hah! Yeah right. As if I’d WANT to know how to be a non sweating, but still hoof- horse loving version of Equius. No fucking thank.  
TT: What’s really bullshit is that despite being former me, you don’t have all the luck it took to actually make that thing work.   
TT: But since we’re cool, it’s all good.  
AG: Yeah  
AG: Well 8ye  
  
\---[AG] arachnidsGrip signed off---  
\---[TT] timaeustestified ended the chat---

 

\--------------------------

 

As they both signed off, Hal and Vriska shed a tear for the lives they’d lost and never knew they had.  
  
The next day, Hal was found broken in half and Vriska hanging from the rafters

 


	6. Bicentennial Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Fake Compluder Brains
> 
> HA alxRoxy originally written for some friends. No game AU where Hal is an android Dirk built. Heavily inspired by the movie Bicentennial Man. No, the title is not a misspelling, Pan comes from Peter Pan.

The first thing H.A.L thought when it opened its eyes for the first was that Roxy Lalonde was beautiful. 

The second thing was that It was not the pronoun it wanted to go by, it wanted to go by he. The fact that H.A.L wanted to be a he for Roxy because she was flirting with a guy not five feet from him was the third thought he had quickly followed by the thought he REALLY didn’t like the blonde douche bag with the pointy shades fake laughing along with Roxy.

Never did it occur to H.A.L, at least not until much later, that he hadn’t thought any of the things he was programmed to. He hadn’t thought of how best it was to serve his ‘master’, the douche with the glasses or even that it should have been impossible for a robot, even one advanced as he, to have feelings in the first place since he’d been built without a heart. He was the Tinman except instead of tin he was made of lightweight alloys, synthetic skin and more wires, circuits and relays than 69 supercomputers.

\----------------------------------------------------

Talking to Roxy for the first time had been surprisingly easy despite the fact every internal sensor he had was in the red. His temperature too hot, his the circuits which imitated a pulse too fast and his knees kept coming at 10% strength even though all the other tests he ran said there was nothing wrong with his wobbling knees.

Perhaps the reason was because he looked liked Dirk, who was supposed to be called master but fuck THAT title with a double sided trident because the only thing Dirk was a master of was his alone time hand and even THAT much was somehow debatable. Or, perhaps the reason was because Roxy was so drunk H.A.L thought he could get tipsy just from being near her despite the fact he had no blood and didn’t need to breathe.

Now, sitting with her on the couch while something played on the TV Hal couldn’t remember being any happier or anymore in love. Maybe that was wrong for a robot, a fake, something not even alive but he could no more deny hs feelings than he could deny his existence.

“Hal I dok...donut- whatebz you know what’a mean, yoose got dat compluder...com..com..fake brains all up in your head- why you treach me so night. Yo justa to be a brobot...robot.”

Ouch. That hurt. A lot. God he was glad he couldn’t cry or else he would be and his ironic shades wouldn’t have been enough to hide the tears. he only problem was, if he couldn’t cry why did it feel like he was? Tears weren’t rolling down his cheeks but it felt like his supposedly non existent heart was breaking into a million pieces. Impossible of course. The internal scans proved he was functioning at 100%, and yet it still felt as if the circuits running through him had gone from pulsing too fast to completely still.

“Hal?” his robotic, monotone voice giving nothing of his internal struggle away.

“Yeah Cause that’s like yer name.”

“My name is H.A.L. It stands for Human Artificial Life.”

“Ye I know dat bu...but I meant lype...like your hooman name.”

“But I’m not human.”

But oooh, how he wished he could be. If he were human he could make Roxy happy. He could love her and she could love him. But instead she pined after Dirk whos he was all but invisible to. H.A.L wasn’t sure if it was possible for anyone to hate someone without ever meeting them, it just seemed to illogical, but if it was he was pretty certain he hated this Jake English Dirk never shut up about.

“I know you not hummus...wow that was really bad- but know what I mean, yeah? Yeah. I know you’re just a robot but just- I don’t know. Lemme call you Hal all righty?”

The second time Roxy called him ‘just a robot’ H.A.L wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle her or go into shut down mode rather than face what felt like his body breaking down even more. Huh, who knew robots could feel nauseous.

“Yeah okay.” Hal said in the same voice as before. He turned away and back to the tv and was about to get into the drek when Roxy kissed his cheek.

 

“Thanks for listening Hal. I’m glad someone does.”

Hal couldn’t reply. That kiss on the cheek, warm, messy, stinky and wet but so fucking perfect even his ‘fake compluder brain’ couldn’t think of a way to describe it. In fact all he could think was that he wanted to kiss her, and so he did. Smack on the lips.

To his surprise Roxy responded eagerly and almost before he could process it, she was passionately kissing him back, pushing her tongue past his lips and exploring his mouth with a tongue that felt hotter than the sun. Vaguely, he was aware of Roxy’s arms around his waist and his around hers and then she scooted forward to sit on his lap and everything went pleasantly dull.

Hal didn’t know how long he kissed and fondled Roxy for. It could have been minutes or hours or years. He could have gone on literally forever and been happy if not for one word.

“Dirk.”

Roxy saying, no more like moaning, that word slammed the cruel reality back into focus. He wasn’t Dirk, fuck he wasn’t even Hal, he was H.A.L, a Human Artificial Life Dirk had created because he’d been bored.

“I luff you Dirk”

He might not have been Dirk or Hal or even human but there was still only one thing he could say to that.

“I love you to Rolal. More than you can ever know.”

\------------------------------------

That was how he and Roxy ended up having sex. Most nights it was drunken sex where Roxy thought he was Dirk and Hal pretended Roxy loved him even though he was stone cold sober. Some nights though, like when Dirk announced he was moving in with Jake, she was just as sober as he was. Those nights were the best for, as far and few as between as they were, Roxy never once called him Dirk.

Instead she called him Hal and said how sweet a robot he was for indulging her. She assured him he didn’t have to sex her up because she was sad and he assured her he wanted to. It wasn’t a normal relationship or even an ideal one, but he was a robot, he was half alive at best and he’d take whatever he could get.

\---------------------------------------------------

Years passed. Dirk and Jake broke up and got together more times than Rachel and Ross of Friends. 

Jane went from horrible boyfriend to Jake when he was single to Roxy and to other girls before starting the cycle all over again. How she did that while running the world’s largest baking company no one could say

Roxy quit drinking, started again, pined after Dirk when he was single, got pregnant once with Dirk’s children, though neither would admit it, and stayed sober just long enough so she could give birth to healthy twins: a boy and girl named Dave and Rose. Somehow, perhaps because Jake and Jane wouldn’t admit to the buck tooth, black haired and green eyed infant James being their son, no one spoke about the children. And when Dirk took Dave and Roxy Rose no one spoke about that either.

Not even him, Hal, who had watched the years shape everyone around him. The people he loosely thought of as his friends were no longer teenagers. They were adults and it showed not just in their appearances, but their attitudes and maturity. Meanwhile he was stuck at the seeming age and mentality of a 16 year old who was wise beyond his years thanks to the fact he was just a robot with fake compluder brains.

\------------------------------------------

It was during Dirk and Jake’s wedding that it happened: With four year old James was the ring bearer, and Dave and Rose; also four, as the flower girls,- something Dirk claimed was ironic or at least all kinds of adorable since Dave was enjoying himself but not showing it when he thought someone was looking, Hal finally admitted that he loved Roxy. Not as a brother or a friend or even a robot, but as a man. What possessed him to do so, he didn’t know,but he figured the alcohol he still couldn’t get drunk off of was a good excuse as any.

What possessed Roxy to say that she COULD love him, Hal who was more human than most, he didn't know. He didn’t need a reason though, he was just happy to kiss the woman he loved, and who maybe one day would love him back

 

\--------------------------------------

More years passed. Hal watched as Rose grew older, from an oddly insightful for year old to a terrifyingly insightful thirteen year old who had the world wrapped around her knitting needles. He also watched Roxy grow from young adult of 22 to a woman of almost thirty two years old who had the first signs of grey showing in her bright blonde hair. Hal figured that was why she had taken drinking up again, though the cats were harder to explain as he had always thought people had to be at least twice Roxy’s age before becoming ‘old cat ladies.’ Then again, what did he know of humans and their traditions? He was just a robot with fake compluder brains.

All in all though, he couldn’t complain. Somewhen in the last ten years Roxy really had fallen in love with him. She made a point of saying it as often as she could, and even though she still sometimes called him Dirk that was okay because most of the time she called him Hal. And, better yet, Rose called him dad. Or, well,s eh had until she’d grown up enough to think she was too cool for it. But before she’d hit her sarcastic tween years her favorite word after psychoanalysis had been papa.

Hal hadn’t thought he’d have room in his non existent heart to love two Lalondes, but like so much else, he’d been wrong. He loved Rose dearly; like a daughter and even when she rolled her eyes and scoffed at him as she did more and more. And would probably continue doing for at least the next five years. That was okay though, he could handle it. He knew she loved him because when she wasn’t rolling her eyes and scoffing at him she was psychoanalysing his fake compluder brains. And if that wasn’t a sign Rose Lalonde didn’t love him nothing was.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

 

Twenty years. Twenty wonderful, love filled years spent with Roxy and Rose. Twenty years of laughter, tears, hard times and good times. Hal watched as Rose grew into an adult, an author, psychologist and a woman every bit of beautiful as her mother. He even watched her fall in love with a foreign woman named Kanaya so hard they married months after meeting. It’d had been very sudden but Kanaya’s dearest friend, and best man/bride’s maid, Karkat knew a Father who also happened to be his father. To this day Hal wasn’t sure what to make of Cyrus Vantas much less all his talk about how robots like him deserved the opportunities everyone else had.

Perhaps he would have figured what to make of the strangely scarlet eyed man, but twenty years after Rose had been thirteen Roxy died. All her years of drinking had caught up with her in the form of liver cancer. When she’d been diagnosed she’d been given six months to live. His Roxy, trooper that she’d been, lasted a year. She’d died on 4/13/2025, just two days after her daughter’s wedding.

Hal’s heart had broken that day, but he was also sort of glad. At just over fifty Roxy had more grey hair than white and the wrinkles spotting her face and body had been impossible to ignore. That was especially true since he looked as young and healthy as ever. He had since he’d first been booted up and fallen in love and he always would. After all he was just a robot with fake compluder brains.

\----------------------------------------------------------

By the time a hundred years passed everyone Hal had ever known or loved was long since dead but he was still 16, still sharp as a tack and still very much in love with Roxy Lalonde.


	7. Goodnight my Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songfic to Lullaby/Goodnight my Angel by Billy Joel written for Ancestor day

“Hey momma? What happens when we die?”

For several moments all the jadeblood could do was stare at her son in mute, horrified shock.

“I...Cerise what brought that on.”

“Kankri. The troll who looks like me in my dreams is named Kankri. And it was another vision. I saw one of me dying.”

“Oh.”

Ugh she needed to say more than that, so much more. But her son had caught her off guard with the question and she honestly had no idea how to answer it.

“I...that won’t be happening for a very long time my dear.”

“I know. But it is going to happen just like it did to the trolls in my dreams.”

“The trolls in your dream died?!”

“Yes. More than once. It’s weird and kinda cool but I’m not like them and well...I don’t know and I’m scared. I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

This was so not a question for right before bedtime. “I can’t promise you’ll never die, but I can promise I will never, ever leave you. You are my sun, my baby, my moonlight in the dark. You will always be in my heart. Now, please Kankri, close your eyes. It’s getting late and we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Sighing softly Porrim knelt down to the troll tightly curled into a ball on the hard, sand floor of the tent she’d pitched. There was no way he was comfortable like that, but she didn’t have anyway to make the three sweep old sleep any better. Not that he slept well anyway.

“I love you too momma. So even when I die I promise I won’t ever leave you either. I just...I’m not sure how. I don’t know what happens after the end, and I just even if you’re there with me I’m really scared. I don’t wanna die.”

“I know honey. I know.” She carded her now softly glowing fingers through his mass of curly black hair, kissed his forehead then each of his horns. For a while she kept doing this, massaging his scalp and laying kisses wherever she could. It seemed to help calm her boy down, but not by much. With another heavy, world weary sigh she kissed his eyelids and did the one and only thing that had ever helped her grub sleep. She sang.

Goodnight, my angel  
Time to close your eyes  
And save these questions for another day.  
I think I know what you've been asking me  
I think you know what I've been trying to say

Her efforts were rewarded by the small bundle of skin, bones and hair closing eyes still grey. Gods he was so young. Much too young to be worrying over things like this. Though, honestly she couldn’t say she was surprised. Her Kankri: It was weird to think of him with that name, had always been wise beyond his sweeps.

“That’s my boy.”

“Mnn.” Kankri mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering open for a few seconds before shutting. After a few more minutes passed the soft sounds of his snoring assured Porrim that her grub was fast asleep. At least for now. Even so she continued to sing.

I promised I would never leave you  
And you should always know  
Wherever you may go  
No matter where you are  
I never will be far away

“Momma?!”

It took every ounce of will for her to not burst into tears again. Her son, the light of her life and the troll she cared most dearly for was dying. They had captured him, tortured him and broken him and now they were putting him on display. They were burning him and whipping him and HE WAS DYING.

Try as she might Porrim couldn’t help but sob as she was dragged away from her boy. Who was not a boy any longer. He was grown, his once grey eyes now red as his blood and his lover, his Disciple kneeling near him. His friend and brother in arms was nearby as well but Porrim wasn’t sure where Mituna was. Despite the muffling device secured on his head no one trusted the yellow blood to be too close to her boy.

“Signless, I’m here. I promise I’m here. Always.” Gods how she hated calling him by that tile, but their hatch names had to remain secret or else the followers, hidden journals and various codes would be in jeopardy. Plus her boy was an adult,he deserved to be known by a title. Just, one much better than ‘Signless.’

“Momma, can you sing me to sleep one last time?”

In that moment Porrim found that she could indeed cry more than she already had even though she’d been wailing. Despite that, she managed to sing. If there was nothing else she could do she could fulfill her son’s last request.

Goodnight, my angel  
Now it's time to sleep  
And still so many things I want to say

“I love you Kankri.”  
“I’m going to miss you momma.”

When the next line faltered in her throat as a sob choked her words away, her lullaby did not go unsung. His voice was rough from shouting, scratchy and a shadow of its former self but it was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

Remember all the songs you sang for me  
When we went sailing on an emerald bay

With one last burst of strength Porrim pulled herself free of her guards and hugged Kankri in the tightest hug she could. She could hear bones that had already been broken creak and his grunt of pain but she couldn’t let up and she never wanted to let go. 

Her breaths were coming out in shuddering gasps, she couldn’t see for all the tears in her eyes and her heart hurt so much she could swear it was being literally torn in half but still she refound her voice to sing as she slowly rocked Kankri as well as she was able with him chained to the jutting block like some kind of beast.

And like a boat out on the ocean  
I'm rocking you to sleep

She had never dared hope she’d by able to join her son this soon. One day she’d have to thank the seadweller who was no doubt behind the harpoon in her gut. For now though all she could really do was feel as the cold water hit her back and then engulfed her. As her consciousness faded, so much like when Mindfang took her and yet so completely different, she heard he soft baritone voice of her baby singing her to sleep. 

Oh what a precious, sweet boy he was. To think he’d worried she could ever not love him. He’d captured her heart from the first time he had looked up to her with those big, scarlet red grub eyes of his.

She was dying, hell almost dead now, but even that did not stop her from joining her son in song

The water's dark  
And deep inside this ancient heart  
You'll always be a part of me

They met in the dream bubbles where they had met in life: a desert with a mountain on the horizon and the soft sounds of grubs scrambling just below ground. He was a child again, no more than three sweeps old and she just as young as she’d been the day she’d taken the tiny red grub away from certain doom.

Unlike when she last saw him his eyes were completely white, which hurt but at the same time was comforting. Never again would someone hate her precious child the second they looked into his eyes. Funny how death made everyone equal.

At the same time both mother and son wiped tears from their eyes and then ran to one another. As they met they hugged one another tight and sobbed for everything they’d lost, everything they’d done and everything they had yet to do. 

Eventually the two of them could no longer muster tears and, despite being dead, exhaustion swallowed them both. A simultaneous yawn, two sleepy grins and they were singing to one another again.

Goodnight, my angel  
Now it's time to dream  
And dream how wonderful your life will be

“Now that you’re here, I can’t imagine it getting anymore wonderful. I missed you, I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise and that I left you. But I’m here now and I’ll never, ever leave you again” 

Someday your child may cry  
And if you sing this lullaby  
Then in your heart  
There will always be a part of me

How long the two of them stayed like that no one could say, That was the beautiful thing about dream bubbles, they were eternal, and so in a way, was everyone who inhabited them.

Someday we'll all be gone  
But lullabies go on and on...  
They never die  
That's how you  
And I  
Will be


End file.
